The night of the art exhibit still lingered in Eurydice’s mind, no matter how hard she tried to push it away.
Conrad defending her. The whispers of the elite. The way Vincent had looked at them like he was waiting for a mistake.
And, of course—
The painting.
The one she’d tried so hard to walk away from.
She had refused to buy it.
But Conrad?
He was never one to let something go so easily.
As soon as Eurydice turned her back that night, Conrad had pulled aside a gallery assistant.
“I’ll take it,” he had said simply, nodding toward the painting.
The assistant’s eyes had widened. “Of course, Mr. Montague. Shall we arrange for delivery?”
“No,” Conrad said. “Have it stored. I’ll decide later.”
Because this wasn’t something he was going to hand over immediately.
Not yet.
Not when she had wanted it so badly but refused to take it.
So, for now, it would remain hidden. Waiting.
Just like the truth he wasn’t quite ready to admit to himself.
Two days after the art exhibit, Eurydice sat on the terrace of Conrad’s home, her sketchpad resting in her lap.
It had become a habit—escaping into art whenever things became too much.
And right now?
She needed an escape.
Because despite how much she wanted to forget it, she kept replaying that moment—
The way Conrad had stood up for her.
The way he had looked at her.
The way it had felt real.
And Eurydice didn’t like that.
Not one bit.
So, she forced herself to focus—pencil in hand, soft strokes forming shapes, details, figures.
For a while, it worked.
Until—
A faint noise from inside the house.
She frowned, pausing mid-sketch.
Had Conrad come home early?
She stood, brushing off her hands, and walked toward the living room—
Only to freeze in place.
Because standing there, in the middle of Conrad’s home, was a woman.
Tall.
Elegant.
Stunningly beautiful.
Dark hair cascaded in soft waves, and her presence radiated sophistication, as if she had never once in her life known what it felt like to be out of place.
And the way she stood there—so effortlessly at home—
Eurydice knew.
She knew exactly who this woman was.
The woman turned, her gaze sharp yet amused as she took in Eurydice’s presence.
Then—
She smiled.
“You must be her,” she mused.
Eurydice’s jaw tightened.
This woman’s voice was too smooth, too knowing—as if she had already decided what Eurydice was before even meeting her.
Eurydice crossed her arms.
“…And you are?”
The woman extended a hand.
“Eliza Moreau.”
Eurydice didn’t shake it.
Because she already knew that name.
Conrad’s ex-fiancée.
Eliza’s smile didn’t falter.
“I see he hasn’t told you much,” she observed, lowering her hand gracefully.
Eurydice raised an eyebrow. “You mean about the fact that you exist? No, I figured that out myself.”
Eliza chuckled. “Oh, I like you.”
Eurydice didn’t smile.
She wasn’t sure if Eliza meant that as a compliment or an insult.
Before she could decide—
The front door slammed open.
And a very out-of-breath Conrad Montague stormed inside.
The moment Conrad saw Eliza, his entire expression shifted.
The usual calm arrogance was gone.
Replaced with something harder.
Something unreadable.
His gaze flickered between the two women, his jaw tightening.
“…Eliza.”
Eliza smirked. “Hello, Conrad.”
Eurydice glanced at him, raising an eyebrow.
Oh? So we’re at that level of tension, huh?
This wasn’t a warm reunion.
It was loaded.
Like unfinished business standing in the middle of the room.
Conrad exhaled sharply, rolling back his shoulders.
“What are you doing here?”
Eliza’s lips curved. “Is that really how you greet an old flame?”
Eurydice almost choked on her coffee.
Conrad’s eyes darkened.
“Cut the theatrics,” he said coldly. “Why are you here?”
Eliza simply tilted her head, gaze unreadable.
Then—
She turned to Eurydice.
And smiled.
“I was curious about her,” she admitted, nodding toward Eurydice. “The woman you replaced me with.”
Eurydice’s entire body stiffened.
Oh, hell no.
She hadn’t asked to be part of this conversation, but now?
Now, she was annoyed.
Not because of Eliza’s presence.
Not even because of the history between her and Conrad.
But because something about the way Eliza spoke, the way she looked at her, made Eurydice feel like she was being studied.
And she hated that.
So, instead of staying silent—
She stepped forward, closing the distance between them.
And with a tilt of her head, she said, “That’s funny.”
Eliza blinked, slightly thrown off.
Eurydice smiled sweetly.
“Because I wasn’t aware Conrad was in the habit of replacing people.”
Conrad’s eyebrows shot up.
Eliza’s lips twitched.
For the first time, something in her cool exterior cracked—just slightly.
Eurydice, seeing that, pressed on.
“Unless,” she continued, “that’s just how things work in your world. Easily discarded. Easily replaced.”
She tilted her head.
“Is that why you’re here, Eliza?” she mused. “Because you weren’t expecting to be replaced?”
Eliza’s eyes sharpened.
Conrad—silent, watching—smirked.
He liked this.
And Eurydice?
She had no idea why she cared so much.
All she knew was—
She wasn’t losing to Conrad’s ex-fiancée.
Not tonight.
Not ever.
The tension in the room was palpable.
Eurydice could feel it crackling like static in the air, thick and unspoken, heavy with history.
Eliza, ever poised, studied her carefully before shifting her attention back to Conrad.
She smiled—a soft, knowing curve of her lips.
“You’ve changed,” she said, eyes sharp despite her easy tone.
Conrad’s jaw tensed. “I doubt that.”
Eliza hummed, unconvinced. “No, you have. You were never one to entertain… theatrics.”
Her gaze flickered toward Eurydice, a pointed glance.
Eurydice felt her hackles rise.
Theatrics?
Conrad let out a humorless chuckle. “Believe it or not, Eliza, my world doesn’t revolve around your perceptions of me.”
Eurydice expected Eliza to falter at that, to maybe drop the subject.
But instead, her expression turned sharper.
“Oh, I don’t expect it to,” she said smoothly. “But I do wonder—why go to all this trouble?”
Conrad’s expression remained unreadable.
Eliza tilted her head. “The engagement. The act. The whole charade.”
Eurydice’s breath caught.
She knew.
She might not have proof, but she was testing the waters.
Waiting for one of them to slip.
Eurydice forced herself to stay calm.
She was used to games, to power plays. But this was different.
Because Eliza Moreau wasn’t just an outsider looking in.
She was once in Conrad’s world.
She knew how he worked.
How he thought.
And she wasn’t going to let this go easily.
For a moment, Conrad didn’t speak.
His expression was calm, controlled.
Then—
He took a single step forward.
“If you have something to say, Eliza,” he said smoothly, his voice dangerously low, “say it.”
Eliza didn’t flinch.
But there was a flicker—a brief moment of hesitation.
Then, her smile returned, practiced and poised.
“I only wanted to understand.”
She glanced at Eurydice again, as if assessing her worth.
Eurydice met her gaze head-on.
Unwavering.
Unbothered.
Eliza sighed. “Well, no matter. It’s not my business anymore, is it?”
Conrad’s lips curved into something cold.
“No,” he said simply. “It’s not.”
For the first time, Eliza’s mask cracked.
Only for a second.
Then—
She exhaled softly, stepping back.
“Right,” she murmured. “I suppose I should be going then.”
Neither Conrad nor Eurydice stopped her.
But as she reached the door, she paused, glancing over her shoulder.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, Conrad.”
Conrad’s expression didn’t change.
Eliza’s gaze flickered to Eurydice one last time before she finally left.
The moment the door clicked shut, silence settled over the room.
Heavy.
Lingering.
Then—
Eurydice let out a long breath.
“Well,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “That was fun.”
Conrad ran a tired hand down his face.
“Define fun,” he muttered.
Eurydice smirked. “You tell me, fiancé.”
Conrad groaned.
And despite everything, Eurydice grinned.
This wasn’t over.
Not even close.